Of Arrows and Daggers
by Gammaboy3
Summary: Vaatias (Vah-tee-oss) Odyssial serves Skyrim as a bard. He must sing songs to the High Queen herself. His odyssey begins when he is blamed for the death of his family and is taken to Helgan by the Imperials to be executed. Barely escaping death, Vaatias chooses to hunt for the man who killed his family- who is a Dragonborn. Little does Vaatias know, Vaatias is also a Dragonborn.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is a fanfic on the game, Skyrim®- part of the Elder Scrolls© series. Since the name of this story is: Of Arrows and Daggers, you can guess that the main character favors the bow and arrow along with daggers. This story is based off of my experiences in Skyrim as well as my... non-experiences. This story is part of a two-part storyline. The first part will tell the story of the Dragonborn- which is my character. The other tells the story of the Dragonborn's descendents. Of course, I won't try to spoil things for those of you who aren't very far into the storyline. Send your thoughts in a review, please. I need to know if there is interest in my writing. The main character pronounces the sound 'al' as the sound 'ul'. Here is the first chapter to the story.

Chapter 1- The Tale of the Dragonborn

_ The Dragonborn have bodies of the mortal,_

_ And the soul of a foe much more fatal._

_ The honeyed words that trace his lips much so,_

_ Can paralyze a foe from head to toe._

_ When slaying dragons- there's not much to gain,_

_ The people raise flagons to their heroic Thane._

_ The tales- they tell, of the Dragonborn's might,_

_ Yet he also sneaks in dark, and fades in the night._

_ O hear my stories, for they are very true,_

_Soak it in thy heart, Dragonborn are few._

_ Slash slash - thrust thrust- down goes the opponent!_

_ He sheathes his sword, carnage isn't his intent. _

_ Treasures line his walls from the front to end,_

_ They all tell- from narrative to legend._

_ Many have challenged this quadruped of a man,_

_ Soon to be sleeping with a gorgonian._

_ Speaks in the language of all the dragons,_

_ Certainly more fetching than fresh onions._

_ Has the tongue of markets, he makes the deals,_

_ Serving Solitude, to the High Queen he kneels._

_ O hear! O hear! These stories told are true,_

_ In fact, here he comes now! Body lined with dew._

_ Where is this Dragonborn- that I speak of,_

_ He is not dead, in the heavens above!_

_ O hear my stories, for they are very true,_

_Soak it in thy heart, Dragonborn are few._

_ Soak it in thy heart, Dragonborn are few!_

The bard inhaled and exhaled, he had just sang a song to the Court- facing the High Queen. One by one, people in the Court clapped in applause. He was of the Khajit trade, with very dark black wavy lines covering his purely dark gray fur. His green eyes slowly wandered across the Court. He wore a blue and green tunic which went to his knees, leather boots which covered his knees, and red gloves which were said to have been made for the Mythic Dawn. An audience member picked up an apple and lobbed it toward the Khajit bard. The bard caught it and thanked the thrower. The applause finally quieted down. The Khajit bard took a bite out of the fresh apple. When he swallowed the piece, the High Queen began to speak.

"Well done, you've met my expectations- even surpassed them." she spoke.

After the bard finished off the apple, he knelt before the High Queen. "It has been my honor." he spoke as a guard took the apple core and threw it in an incinerator.

"I expect you will be back in Solitude again?"

"Yes, I would never want to leave Solitude, this beautiful capital." the bard stood up.

"Good, you will be performing that song to everyone tomorrow." the High Queen stated. A look of surprise came over the Khajit's face.

"It would be a true honor!" the Khajit yelled joyously. He hopped and skipped right out the door.

"He seems joyous." a guard spoke.

"I suppose any bard would." another guard spoke. Silence soon coated the room...

The Khajit arrived at his house. He was simply at the most joyful stage a person can be at. He went downstairs, where his wife and children were. His family were Khajits, himself, his wife, and two children. His wife had pure white fur. His son had dark gray fur and his daughter had light gray fur. He embraced his family telling them of the great news. They all gathered around the dinner table. They prayed to all of the Aedra and Daedra recorded on paper. After eating, the wife told the bard to go get a few sacks of flour from the store named 'Bits and Pieces', the cabinet was empty of it. The bard agreed and was heading out the door in a matter of seconds...

It was night when the bard returned. The house was silent, he could hear the wooden boards that made up the floor creak as he passed. He now had several chills go up his back as he walked. After he undressed himself and put his clothes in his closet, he lied down in his bed. Suddenly, he saw a sentence written in blood on the wall next to the staircase. It read- 'Follow the Path of Blood'. Blood slowly drizzled down the steps, it drizzled like thick caramel. He honestly didn't care if it was a trap, if curiosity is how this cat dies- then let it be curiosity. He knew two things that were at the bottom of the steps. One, this path was going to lead to carnage. And two, someone or something was down there just waiting for him- he heard muffled breathing. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he looked over and was easily frightened. His beautiful wife lie dead on the floor, blood slowly slithered onto the floor like snakes. He instantly fell on his rump, his legs crossed. He also saw his children tied to chairs, rags of leather armor covered their mouths. He instantly darted over to his children- untying the rags on their mouths.

"Papa!" the children cried in fear.

"Everything is going to be just fine. I'm going to find whoever did this and kill whoever did this." he spoke in a reassuring voice. Once the two were completely untied, the group heard clapping sounds from the kid's room. From out of the room came a brute of a man. He was bald and had a tanned complexion. He adorned leather armor, leather gauntlets, and leather greaves. The man stopped clapping and pulled out his weapon. It was like two double sided axes joined together end to end- he could carry the weapon with one hand like a feather. With a flick of his wrist, he took a swing and off went the heads of the children. The Khajit panicked as he grabbed a steel sword off of the wall. The brute sheathed his weapon and faced the cat. When the bard took a swing at the brute, the sword merely deflected off of the brute's armor. The brute grabbed the steel sword by the blade, the blade didn't do anything. While the Khajit struggled, the brute took in a deep breath.

"Fuus..." the brute said in a low voice- "Ro Dah!" the Shouted, the Shout caused the bard to helplessly fly through the air and crash into a wall.

"No way..." the bard coughed blood- "You are the Dragonborn...?"

"The Graybeards would be displeased with you, Dovahkiin." the brute said, sword hilt in his hand while he strolled over. The brute shoved the sword deep into the bard's stomach. He vomited blood as soon as the sword reached the wall. The brute peacefully marched up the stairs, as if nothing had happened. The brute faced the bard. "You are nothing, and nothing should never exist." the brute continued up the stairs. The Khajit heard the sick sound of him pulling the sword out of his stomach. The bard heard the brute talking to a group of people upstairs. As soon as he heard the door close, guards came running down the steps, weapons unsheathed.

"Thou hast committed crimes against Skyrim and her people, what says thou in thy defense?" the guard questioned coolly. The bard vomited more blood into his lap.

"I haven't... killed... anyone..." the bard spoke, losing his life by the second.

"That's what all criminals say. Thou hast committed three acts of manslaughter and an attempt on suicide. Take him away." the guard commanded the other guards.

"I'm... not lying..."

"Sure you're not lying, tell that to the executioner when he holds the axe above you." a guard who casually strolled over to him spoke. The guards picked him up by his elbows, his vision failed him as he was soon dragged away...

A guard kicked the bard hard in the stomach to wake him up. The Khajit adorned prison wear- a rough-spun tunic and a pair of foot wraps, his hands tied behind his back. He stood on a wagon. The guard picked him up by the throat and tossed him down on the rocky terrain. The Khajit stumbled at first but eventually got back on his feet. The cold winds of Helgan struck the cat cold, they wrapped around him like serpents trying to constrict their adversary. The Khajit continued on until he confronted a woman in armor and a man carrying a list.

"Who are you?" the woman in armor asked. The Khajit didn't answer. The woman in armor unsheathed her sword and thrusted the hilt into his stomach. The hit took the wind out of the Khajit. The woman continued to push the sword hilt. "Listen you goddamn cur of a Khajit- you may have been all high and mighty in your homeland, but in Skyrim you are nothing. I don't care what you did to get here, but you'd better state your name before I cut off your head right now, you cur!" the woman sheathed her sword, allowing the Khajit to breath.

"Vaatias Odyssial, and I shouldn't be here. I have done nothing in Skyrim to make me get sent here." Vaatias stated.

"Ah, Vaatias Odyssial. I've heard of you, but being a good bard doesn't change my mind one bit." the woman spoke.

"Ma'am, his name is not on the list." the man complained.

"For Christ sake, get the Khajit over to the Executioner's block already." the woman commanded a guard, the guard pushed Vaatias Odyssial forward using the butt of his battleaxe. The two eventually made it to the block.

"Next! The cat!" the person that stood closest to the Executioner stated. The guard shoved Vaatias over to the Executioner's block. Vaatias soon felt his head hit the top of the block. As the Executioner raised his axe, people started showing faces of fear as they looked into the sky.

"What in Oblivion is that?!" a man shouted in fear. Vaatias looked up, soon showing fear that everyone else showed. Past the Executioner was a black dragon. When the axe fell, the dragon perched itself on the roof of a building. When the axe was still in mid-fall, the dragon shouted with rage- making the axeman fall and the axe impaling a guard. Vaatias slowly got up coughing along the way...

He found his way into a pitch-black cave. The man with blond hair named Rolaf- advised Vaatias to not light a torch, the floor was saturated with oil. He sheathed his iron sword. Vaatias browsed through the darkness before closing his eyes. As soon as he reopened them, the cave was illuminated. It was a special skill for the Khajit- called 'Night Vision'. It allowed the Khajit race to see better in the dark for sixty seconds. He looked around and saw a sleeping bear.

"Don't make any loud sounds" the Khajit whispered in a hush-hush manner- "there is a sleeping bear straight ahead of us."

"Do you have any training with the bow?" Rolaf whispered.

"I've had a few training sessions. Can I borrow your bow?"

"Sure, but I don't have any arrows." Rolaf whispered, Vaatias cursed to himself. "They fell into the hands of our enemies." Vaatias then thought up an idea.

"Hand me the bow and hide in the shadows, I've got a strategy." Vaatias whispered. Rolaf handed him his bow and then hid in the shadows. Vaatias unsheathed his iron dagger and positioned it on the bow like an arrow. He smirked as the iron dagger soared through the air like it was an arrow. The proxy arrow pierced the bear's body. The only problem was that the dagger didn't kill the bear. The bear went on its fours and charged at Vaatias. Vaatias quickly dropped the bow and unsheathed his sword. The tip of the blade pointed directly toward the beast. When the bear was one foot in front of the blade, the bear roared. The bear's muzzle came an inch away from closing on Vaatias's elbow when it suddenly stopped. The sword went through a straight line, from the bear's mouth to the bear's rectum. The Khajit pulled his arm out of the bear. Past his elbow was blood while his elbow was covered in saliva. The sword was barely poking out of the bear's rump. Vaatias decided that sword was no longer usable and left it in the bear's body. Rolaf came out of the shadows.

"Is it dead?" Rolaf asked. Vaatias took a moment to wipe his arm clean using Rolaf's clothing. The Khajit picked up his iron dagger and put it in its scabbard.

"I believe so." Vaatias picked up the bow and offered to give it back to the rightful owner. Rolaf declined and helped Vaatias strap it to his back...

It was about midday when the two came out of the cave. Rolaf stopped and turned to the Khajit. "You should join the Stormcloaks."

"For sure, it was the Imperials that tried to execute me- so I will definitely join the Stormcloaks as soon as I get the chance to." Vaatias spoke.

"Great, we should head for Riverwood, I own a mill there." Rolaf stated.

"I'll meet you there, I know a few camps around here, so I'll restock and head for Riverwood." Vaatias spoke.

"Alright, but it's dangerous to go alone. Take this." Rolaf spoke as he handed Vaatias a pouch of the sorts. He opened it.

"A thousand gold?!" Vaatias asked.

"You know what they all say, money is what makes Skyrim go 'round. Besides, it's a language everyone in Skyrim knows."

"Well thanks, I'll try to be in Riverwood by tomorrow's dawn." Vaatias spoke, heading for the North...

_**END OF CHAPTER**_

A/N: End of chapter, I'm sorry for taking so long to publish another fanfic. Since my PlayStation3® crashed, I've been wanting to write more. So, until my father takes the PlayStation3 to get it fixed, I'm going to try to get as much writing done as possible. For those who don't know the terms I used- I'll define the terms at the end of this A/N. Expect for the next chapter to be up soon, I'm still deciding on a second story. I guess that's it, see ya.

**Unknown Terms**

Quadruped: four-footed animal: an animal with four limbs and feet, all of which are used for walking.

Gorgonian: Coral with branched skeleton:a coral with a flexible horny branched skeleton. (Shut up, you perverts.)

Dew: small drops: drops of moisture of any kind, for example tears or sweat.

Proxy: Basically a substitute or fake

Rectum: Basically an intestine that goes from the belly to the rump


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Well... I guess, hello. My PlayStation3® is still being repaired. Writing this story has become rather tricky to write, since I can't play through it again. I thank you, _Alone in the blight_ for reviewing my story as it goes on. Although I take offense to being called the second type of author, I must remember that I am not the best and that I do not shit pure diamonds(sorry, I just can't help it XD). I thank you for your review, _Alone in the blight_, either way. Also, _Auroness_- I have to thank you for your review. I will try to answer your questions in this chapter. And if I don't, tell me. Over to the damn disclaimer. I do not own Skyrim©, or anything relating to, or of it. Any words or phrases underlined will be explained later.

Chapter 2- Walking in a lightened darkness

The beautiful night sky showed when the Khajit arrived. Through the curtain of black showed a banner of blue lights provided by the stars above. The Khajit heard Imperials coming, so he stealthily rolled behind a large rock. It was obvious that the Imperials had just taken over the Stormcloak camp. He saw one of the Imperials stride by the rock he was hiding behind. He took out his iron dagger. He crouched down. He walked toward the guard. He slowly stood. He flipped the guard onto the ground. He removed the helmet. He covered the guard's breathing. He pressed the dagger and his hand hard. He traced a line of blood on said guard's neck. He slowly bled. Blood drizzled on the grass. The breathing ceased. The guard ceased to resist. Vaatias wiped the red liquid on the guard's face before sheathing his now-blood-free iron dagger. He dragged the guard's dead body behind the rock, taking off the guard's armor- taking his off as well...

When the Khajit came out from behind the rock, he was dressed in the guard's armor- his tail wrapped around his waist. Vaatias equipped a sword and a torch. He sheathed his sword and raised the torch, slowly patrolling the now Imperial camp. A guard approached him.

"Hail, soldier. What is thy report?" the guard asked.

"No suspicious activity to report." Vaatias stated. The guard tilted his head to the left.

"Methinks thou art not who thee say thou art."

"I cry thy mercy?"

"Thou art not an Imperial, but do not worry, thy secret is safe with me." the Imperial spoke. The guard then motioned Vaatias to hide behind a nearby boulder. After about a minute of Vaatias hiding behind the rock, the guard confronted him. "I mean thou no harm. Methinks thou art not hostile."

"Aye. I thank thee for thy kindest gratitude." Vaatias took off his helmet, the guard followed the same suit. The guard was an Argonian. He had mostly light green skin- with the occasional spots of dark green... his eyes were black as darkness itself. Vaatias offered his hand in a handshake. "It's a pleasure to meet thou."

"The pleasure is mine." the Argonian spoke in his semi-raspy voice. The Argonian let go of Vaatias's hand. "Address me as Cervanté (Sir-von-tay). And who art thou?"

"I am Vaatias Odyssial, a bard from Solitude."

"Forsooth?"

"Forsooth." Vaatias spoke. Cervanté checked his surroundings, as if somewhat paranoid.

"Marry, I had no idea." Cervanté spoke in astonishment. "So today I finally meet the famous bard." Cervanté couldn't see it, but Vaatias was a little embarrassed by his comment.

"It's nothing really." Vaatias spoke.

"So what crime did thou commit?"

"I did not commit a crime of any sort, methinks. Unless being blamed for murder and attempt of suicide is a crime now." Vaatias answered, making Cervanté chuckle slightly.

"Being framed isn't a crime, methinks- and methinks I know the law well enough to abide by its rules." Cervanté spoke. "For a friend of Solitude, I thought the Odyssials were a family praised by the hold." the Argonian spoke the truth, Vaatias was an Odyssial. When his father's father, Dante Odyssial, came to Skyrim- he went to Solitude. Disguising himself as a regular citizen, he slowly gained the trust of Solitude's people. When he presented himself to the High Court, Solitude allowed the Odyssials to be part of the people. Only Odyssials, Khajits of high honor to Solitude- because of tensions with Elsweyr. This caused commotion in Solitude, but died out before Vaatias's father was born.

"Aye, I will kill the man who dare kill my wife and children." Vaatias stated in a scary tone.

"Make sure to do it in secret, to make sure you don't get hauled off to the executioner's block."

"Aye. May I ask thou a question?"

"Even though thou art doing so," Cervanté stated, folding his hands and sitting up straight- "What troubles thee?"

"Why would I be sent to Helgan to be executed?"

"Reasonable question, but I may not be able to respond with a reasonable answer. Word around Solitude is that several guards were bribed into sending a citizen on a wagon ride to Helgan. The man who bribed them tried to bribe me, but I protested. I was able to catch his first name." Cervanté responded.

"Well, how did he look?" Vaatias asked. The Argonian then described the man who tried to bribe him. It was the same man that Vaatias had encountered, whom killed his wife and children. "That is the same man who accused me of false crimes!" Cervanté gasped. Vaatias continued. "What did he do after you protested?"

"I threatened I would take him to the High Court and they would execute him for several acts of bribery. He didn't change his expression at all. He walked away. I told him to come hither but he would not listen. I grabbed onto his shoulder and yelled- 'Hark, thou son of a mongrel bitch! You'd better come clean before I unsheathe my sword!'. All the man did was turn his head and say- 'Art thou sure thou have thy sword sheathed in the first place?'. I looked at my scabbard, my sword was gone! When I looked back up to the man, he was facing me. 'Looking for thy blade?' he asked. I looked at his left hand, my blade was firmly held. When he grasped the blade using his pinky, he separated the blade from its hilt. He shattered the raw blade by just tightening his fist. Shrapnel entered my body in an instant. He flipped the hilt into the air. He caught the hilt with his left. He rose the hilt above his head. He tilted my head up. He opened my mouth. He shoved the hilt down my throat. I could barely scream in pain, nor very well breathe. His hand came out of my mouth, covered with saliva. He walked away and then easily vanished into thin air." Cervanté spoke. Just hearing the story made Vaatias gag. He almost vomited whatever he had last in Solitude, that meal that his wife had cooked for him might have just splattered all over the floor. But it went back down his throat instead. "Luckily though, the hilt wasn't stuck down to far down my throat. The local guards carried me to the nearest hospital and surgically removed it, I can still feel the pain of the hilt being in my throat."

"I am truly sorry for making you repeat the morbid story." Vaatias spoke.

"Thou art none to blame for this act. Thou does not have to show sympathy."

"How come?"

"Just look." Cervanté spoke. He put both arms in the air. There were several engravings on his arms. "Do you see any sort of weapons?"

"No, are you one who wields magic?" Vaatias asked. Cervanté nodded.

"I major in Conjuration and Destruction, but I minor in everything else. These are engravings to make my Conjuration and Destruction spells much stronger. My left hand deals with Destruction while my right is for Conjuration." he put his hands in the previous position, folded against his chest. "This is my punishment for 'playing around with the dead'- as they say.

"What was the name of the man?" Vaatias spoke, changing the subject.

"Before he left, he told me to tell a Khajit named Vaatias Odyssial- told me to tell you of my confrontation with him. He told me to tell you that a man named Tenmere had sent me."

"Tenmere..." Vaatias cupped his chin for a bit, thinking. "I've never heard that name in my life. I certainly never remember a name such as that."

"That is strange." Cervanté stated.

"Indeed it is." Vaatias spoke.

"Since I believe you have ran out of questions to ask..." Cervanté spoke, taking a short breath- "I have a question." Cervanté finished.

"Go ahead."

"What happened at Helgan?"

"Thou haven't been told? Aren't thee in the Imperial League?"

"I am new in the Imperial League, and no one really pays attention to the new member until they are known for something. In addition, I am an Argonian- and you know how immigrants are treated here in Skyrim."

"How were you able to join the Imperial League then?"

"Most of the men there only are muscle, they barely had any magic-wielders. They had to allow me in. Anyways, what happened in Helgan?"

"Well..." Vaatias thought back. It was almost a blur. "I remember being kicked off the wagon, literally. I was asked my name and then carried off to the Executioner's block. I was about to be killed when a dragon saved me." Vaatias spoke, he was about to continue when Cervanté interrupted him.

"A dragon? Art thou sure you weren't on skooma?"

"I'm sure. I had nothing to drink over. As a bard, I can't drink too much- I'd be thrown out." Vaatias responded. The Argonian's face showed shock.

"Marry, the dragons should all be wiped out."

"Twas what I thought as well. Although I'm grateful it showed up when it did. Otherwise, I would've been dead, my head in a bucket and my body shoved to the side for the next prisoner." Vaatias spoke. Cervanté nodded in agreement, still kind of shocked. "I don't remember anything past that."

"But still, a dragon?" Cervanté asked himself. He wiped the sweat off of his face. He put his helmet on. Vaatias followed the same suit. "Do you need anything, Vaatias?"

"Now that you mention," the helmet-wearing Khajit thought aloud- "I could use some arrows and some rations. I would also need white war paint and very dark dirt."

"Why specifically white paint and very dark dirt?"

"You will see, I'll need to rest. Are there any available tents that I can rest in?"

"I believe so."

"I will leave when the sun has risen." Vaatias spoke. The two nodded to each other before both went off on their separate ways...

"I have gotten what thee hast told me to get." Cervanté stated, carrying two buckets- one with dirt and one with war paint. "The arrows and rations should be in the drawer over there." Vaatias took the buckets from Cervanté. It didn't take long for Vaatias to spread the dirt and paint on his body. He used the dirt to cover his wavy stripes and the war paint to cover the rest.

"Why use those as you did?"

"Hair or fur color can be determined by the amount of sunlight it receives. Darker objects tend to receive more sunlight than lighter objects. As well as lighter objects tend to receive less sunlight than darker objects. The more sunlight the fur gets, the lighter it gets. My uncle told me about this method. He was framed for stealing a lot of merchandise. Before he went into hiding, his fur was almost golden. A day after, he came back- having pitch black fur. He told me he had hid with the Snow Elves, underneath the ground."

"I see what you mean." Cervanté spoke, seemed to understand.

"Try to let no one enter, I will need as much darkness as darkness itself."

"Okay." Cervanté spoke, closing the tent.

"I really do hope this works." Vaatias spoke, he sat up straight and closed his eyes...

The golden sky awakened Vaatias, it's beautiful arms of light dragging him slowly out of slumber. Tears filled his eyes as he yawned. It was difficult to get up, with the dirt and paint stuck to him like leeches. He managed to get up and put his folded armor on a shelf. He picked up his equipment, he left the tent and straight out into the wilderness...

The sky was covered with blue when Vaatias came out of the nearby lake. He used the water to wash dirt and grime off of his body. He had to use his claws to get some out though. He sat on a large rock to sunbathe, letting the sun dry him. He noticed his reflection in the water. It seemed the tactic had worked. The wavy stripes were a lighter shade of gray than before, and the rest was blacker than before. After feeling dry enough, he leaped off the rock. He put on his prison-wear on and picked up his equipment. He started up slowly but quickened up his pace as he headed to Riverwood...

Riverwood wasn't like Solitude at all. For one, it was a village- small, but civilized. There was also the fact that it shared guards with Whiterun, a hold a few miles from Riverwood. Vaatias had never been outside of Solitude in his whole life. His father and mother told him there were dangerous men outside of Solitude, and he believed that. He still does, but Solitude isn't any different- with Tenmere there. He gritted his teeth just thinking about the man, disgusting him in every way imaginable. The memory of his wife and children dying would never leave him. It would haunt him for as long as he could stand on his own two feet. He greeted the local guard before walking into the gates of Riverwood. The dirt-paths of streets weren't as crowded as Solitude's streets were. He soon walked into an unfamiliar conversation.

"I'm telling thee, I saw a dragon!" an elderly woman protested.

"Thou art just being crazy, mother!" a young man said.

"I know what I saw!" she protested. He sighed and shrugged her off. He soon walked away. "By the gods, I am not lying! Why doesn't anyone believe me?" she asked herself. Vaatias walked up onto her front porch.

"I can see where thou art coming from. I saw a dragon in Helgan." Vaatias told her.

"I knew I wasn't being crazy!" the woman practically yelled. The younger man came back.

"You too?" the young man put a hand under his chin. "I thought it was just my mother, but you too?" Vaatias soon left the two after a bit, traveling to the nearest blacksmith- in order to sell the unnecessary weapons and armor. He was able to make at least a thousand septims for the sold armor, about five-hundred for the weapons. He had a total of twenty-five hundred septims, the amount of money he could earn by singing to the High Court. After stepping off the stairs of the blacksmith's home, he bumped into a civilian.

"Watch it there!" the man stated.

"I am truly apologetic." Vaatias apologized.

"Well, could you do a favor for me?"

"I can try, what is the task?" Vaatias spoke. The blond man took a letter out of his pocket.

"I need you to deliver this to the girl at the Riverwood trader. Tell her it's from Faendal."

"Why can't you deliver this yourself, Faendal?"

"That is not my name. My name is actually Sven. You see, I want to get into better terms with her, but he keeps interrupting. This letter is a letter of hate, she will never want to see him again." the man said, giving Vaatias the letter. The man then walked off. Vaatias knew that the man would be mad if he told the truth, but Faendal would surely be tormented for something he didn't write. He finally decided what to do as he walked into the Riverwood. Vaatias greeted the owner of the store before sitting down on a chair close to the recipient.

"What is your purpose for being here?" she asked.

"I have a letter from Sven. He told me to lie by saying it was from Faendal." Vaatias said. Her mood seemed to turn more and more fowl as she read it.

"He hist the son of a mongrel cur!" she spoke as she crumpled the letter. "I can't believe I have a relationship with him!" Vaatias soon succeeded in calming her down. "I thank thee for delivering this letter of hate to me." she handed him a few septims for his troubles. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to show my hate towards the bastard." she spoke as she walked out the door. Vaatias went over to the shopkeeper.

"Do you mind if I sell some items here?"

"Sure." The shopkeeper spoke.

After about fifteen minutes, Vaatias walked out of the Riverwood Trader. With some armor covering him, leaving his head naked to the sun. He remembered that he had to talk to Rolaf, so he headed to the mill.

"Rolaf!" Vaatias shouted from afar.

"May I ask who thou art?" Rolaf asked, not recognizing Vaatias.

"My name is Vaatias, we met at the Executioner's Block?"

"Ah, yes. I didn't recognize you at first. What did you do to change your fur?"

"It's a trick I learned from my Uncle..." and so the conversation ensued.

After talking to Rolaf, Vaatias started walking around town. He noticed the beautiful .He heard some quiet footsteps. Being a Khajit, his senses were at a supernatural level. He noticed a thief jumping off the roofs of the wooden houses. The thief was a good thief, but he could improve. Vaatias jumped on the roof next to the thief.

"Who the hell are you?" the thief whispered.

"I'm the person who spotted you. You need to improve your sneaking."

"You mean you won't turn me to the guards?"

"I might, but your sneaking skill is terrible! I can function day and night. When you jump, make sure your toes are the only part of your body that touches the surface."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." the thief took a hood out of his pocket. "Here, and thanks for the help." the hood he held was made of leather and was jet black. "How do you manage to be a good thief with all of that heavy armor on?"

Vaatias strapped the hood on. "When you are a master of sneak, even the heaviest of armor can't slow you down or cause sound. The thief jumped onto the roof ahead, using what Vaatias said. He was completely silent, even to Vaatias. Once the thief disappeared, Vaatias silently landed on solid ground. Vaatias was a master of sneak because of his bloodline. Not only was he born a Khajit, he was born as an Odyssial. Odyssials knew the law very well, but were excellent at sneaking. Vaatias's mother taught him how to use the bow and his father the ability of sneak. Vaatias's father had a good way of training him. His father would sit down and sip his daily tea while Vaatias would stealthily try to grab a necklace off of his father's neck without him noticing. The trick was that unhooking the necklace without acting under much pressure. He would have to remain calm during the whole sequence of taking the necklace off. He would also have to do this for a total of ten times a day. For a month. And by that time, he could crouch and simply vanish. He decided to turn in for the night, so he went into an inn, rented a room, and slept. He soon fell into a deep sleep.

_**END OF CHAPTER**_

Author's note: Sorry for the long wait, I was preoccupied with some recent shit. But anyway, the chapter's up. If you have any questions or comments, remember to send them in a review. Well, until next update.

_**UNKNOWN TERMS AND PHRASES**_

**Methinks****: **As you can guess, it is a medieval term for 'I think'.

**I cry thy mercy?****:** It's how people said 'excuse me?' or 'I beg your pardon?'.

**I thank thee for thy kindest gratitude****:** It's 'I thank you for being kind.'.

**Address me as****:** As you can guess, it's 'My name is'.

**Forsooth?****:** It's basically asking if someone is telling the truth. Like 'for real?' or 'for realziz?'.

**Marry****:** It's basically saying 'wow' or 'holy fuck' if you prefer.

**Elsweyr****:** It's the name of the Khajit homeland.

**Hither****: **It's 'here', like 'come here' is 'come hither'.

**Hark, thou son of a mongrel bitch!****:** He is saying 'Halt, you son of a bitch!"


End file.
